


A cry for...help?

by ImNotAnOwl



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Dirty Talk, M/M, Smut, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22759603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImNotAnOwl/pseuds/ImNotAnOwl
Summary: Geralt can't sleep when he hears Jaskier crying his name in the room next to him. Thinking his friend to be in danger, he rushes in and... freezes at the sight.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 384





	A cry for...help?

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fist fanfic ever that I finish and publish. It's also my first gay sex smut, so yeah.. sorry if it sucks! (I hope it doens't though!) I had so much fun writing this. I hope you'll enjoy reading it. Leave kudos and (nice) comments for clear skin!  
> (It's not beta read and english is not my native tongue so there might be some spelling or grammar mistakes, sorry about that!)
> 
> Enjoy! xx

The Witcher groaned, tossing in his bed. He couldn’t seem to find sleep. His bed was cold, and he felt restless, restless and lonely. It was the fifth time this week that he and Jaskier slept in a separate room. When they could afford it the bard would always pay for two rooms, and the Witcher had not yet had the gut to refuse and ask that they share their bed even though there was no need for it. He had to admit it, the fact that the bard did not seem to want to sleep in the same room as he hurt. Geralt was used of rejection from others, usually, he didn’t care. Hell, he even preferred to sleep alone in his bed, more space for him, no one to bother him or taking all the cover. But the bard was not anyone, and he had grown accustomed to his presence after all the nights they shared on the same bedroll out in the wild or in the dirty little inns they had been to. Despite Jaskier’s constant blabbering, which Geralt had learned to ignore, his presence had a soothing effect on the Witcher. He felt at peace whenever they shared a bed, Jaskier’s body warmth radiating onto his skin, making him melt, slowing his blood flow and heart rate. He would always fall asleep so easily and enjoy a true restorative sleep whenever he slept by his side.

But yet again tonight, he will have to do without it. He will have to wait for sleep to come, if it ever came. He was lost in his thoughts when a sudden cry from Jaskier’s room startled him. It had been stifled and Geralt had not been able to decipher it. Worried, Geralt was considering going in his room to make sure that everything was fine when he heard Jaskier’s voice again, crying his name. Alarmed, Geralt jumped out of bed and rushed to his friend’s room, smashed the door open and froze.

“Fuck,” he groaned. He stepped in and closed the door behind him. He knew in that instant that this very image will never leave his mind. That he would remember this and replay it over and over and never tire of it.

A few meters before him, on the rough and sturdy bed of the inn, laid a bard paralysed in surprised. His mouth was contorted into a wide O, his eyes wide opened, fixed on the door. The bard was lying on his front, ass high in the air, one hand tugging at his cock, while the other was two fingers deep into his hole. He was frozen, too shocked by the intrusion and the shame of being caught to react.

The Witcher understood his mistake, and a gush of blood went straight to his groin as he took in the sight. The bard gasped, opening and closing his mouth soundlessly, trying to come up with something, but was quickly cut off by the Witcher. “Don’t move, don’t say anything,” he growled.

He turned to the door and did a sign that would prevent anyone opening the door and walking in, then, slowly, his gaze never leaving Jaskier’s body, he walked toward the bed. He stopped at the foot of the bed, Jaskier’s ass right in front of him, his fingers still into place, chills visible on his skin. “Geralt, I’m…” the bard whispered, but was immediately silenced by Geralt’s hand on his ass, palming his left cheek, caressing the soft skin with his thumb. “I said don’t speak.”

Geralt took off his hand before taking off his night shirt. He had never been happier to wear that little clothes to bed. The less he had to take off, the sooner he’ll be able to press against the warm skin of the bard.

“What a sight you are,” he said as he climbed on the bed, standing on his knees right behind the trembling body. He removed Jaskier’s hand softly and leaned to kiss his skin. He nipped and licked every parcel of his ass then softly licked his hole, tracing slow circles at the rim before his tongue pushed in, able to reach in deep, thanks to Jaskier’s previous actions. The bard whined, unable to control the sounds coming out of his mouth.

The Witcher gave one last floppy kiss on his ass before straightening back and resuming his caresses on his cheeks.

“Look at you, all ready for me. Yearning to be filled. Oh, my gorgeous little bard. And here I was, rushing to your room thinking you were in danger, thinking you might need my help. How wrong I was!” he said with an amused tone, his left hand stroking the bard’s back while his right was teasing his hole, making the bard shudder.

“Well, it appears I was not completely wrong, you do need my help after all. You cannot imagine the effect it had on me when I realised why you were crying my name. Is it what you’ve been doing all these nights when we slept apart? Or maybe you even did it when you were lying next to me, eh? You know, you could have simply asked and I would have been more than happy to provide. To turn you over and claim you, making you howl into the night. Is that what you wish for little lark?” he asked, pushing a finger slowly inside.

“Yes,” Jaskier croaked. “Please, yes, please Geralt. F…fuck me.”

“Oh, that I will. You are so ready for me it’s breath-taking. I will fill you so well, you won’t even be able to scream my name. Now take off your hand from that lovely cock of yours. You will come when I decide to.”

Jaskier shuddered at those words then put his hands under the pillow where is face was resting, grabbing at the fabric. Geralt grabbed the vial of oil that was lying on the bed, slicked himself slowly before spilling some on the bard’s hole. He hummed and aligned himself with the bard. The tip of his cock slowly pressed in as a hand stroked Jaskier’s back.

Jaskier gasped. “More, please. I’m ready.”

“Be patient, little lark,” Geralt chuckled, before pushing further inside. He continued his strokes, caressing every inch of the bard’s body he could touch, trying to soothe him and talking sweet nonsense at him, slowly progressing until he finally bottomed out. He stilled for a moment, leaning to kiss his back, one hand sneaking to grab Jaskier’s leaking cock. He was so hard that he whimpered at the contact, while at the same time the Witcher pulled out, dragging slowly his dick inside him.

“Geralt, please, faster. I - I can take it.”

“I know,” he answered, before sliding in again, keeping a slow pace that was driving Jaskier mad. He continued fucking the bard desperately slowly for a good few minutes, before he could not contain himself anymore. He drew back completely, which earned him a low whine of protest from the bard, before turning him over on his back.

“I want to see your face when you come, my beautiful one,” he whispered, leaning to leave a soft peck on Jaskier’s lips.

“Then fuck me!” the bard groaned in protest, craving for his release.

Geralt grabbed his thighs and rammed into him in in one fluid movement, grunting with the effort, before setting a relentless pace. Jaskier’s eyes slammed shut and aimed to grab at his cock, before his hand was slapped away and the fingers of the Witcher closed around him. He was lost in the sensation of Geralt’s fingers lazily stroking his dick, applying a heavenly pressure at random, while ramming into him so fast and so strongly that Jaskier was sure he was going to have bruises in the morning. But to hell with the bruises, for it was so blissful that it was worth it. Even more so as Geralt hips shifted lightly and finally pressed into that sweet spot that left Jaskier into a shuddering mess. Each stroke bringing him closer to the edge.

“Geralt I’m gonna… _please_ …” he breathed out, opening his eyes and giving a pleading look to Geralt.

Geralt plunged his eyes into those and the bard, a devilish smile on his face. “Cum. Cum for me little lark.” grunted Geralt as one hand went to grab Jaskier’s hair and while the other quickened his pace on his dick, pumping erratically, his hips snapping against Jaskier’s ass. The bard spilled onto the Witcher’s hand and his stomach. Hi mouth agape, screaming silently, his gaze fixed onto Geralt’s yellow eyes.

It took only a few seconds before the Witcher came too, deep into the bard, roaring as pleasure racked his body. Jaskier’s ass clenching around his cock driving him mad, milking him so sweetly. He grunted as he collapsed on the bard, nose buried in the crook of Jaskier’s neck, leaving soft kisses against his kiss.

“Geralt, that was… I’m speechless,” Jaskier whispered.

Geralt chuckled. “Had I known this would shut you up I would have taken you long ago!”

“Ah, ah,” the bard answered, smiling nonetheless. “No, but really,” he pushed at the Wtcher, trying to look at his face. “Thank you. And… thank you for not rejecting me, for not being scared by what you… discovered,” he whispered.

Geralt said nothing, only shifted to lie next to the bard, his head lying above his breast, humming softly against the bard’s skin.

“I was so afraid. So afraid and so ashamed of what I was feeling for you, of my desire for you that I did everything I could to keep you at bay, to not be tempted nor be discovered. Well... I failed miserably. But do not think that I didn’t want to share those nights with you. It was the very opposite,” he continued.

“The Gods know how foolish I was. Trying to keep you away, when the only thing I wanted was you. When I could think of anything, anyone but you. Every. Single. Night. And to think that you wanted, _want_ , me too is.. is incredible! But I don’t want to scare you. Maybe there won’t be other times, maybe it was just once. Although I got the feeling, dear Geralt, that you quite enjoyed it and will likely ask for more. But for now, will you just stay with me and hold me Geralt?.... Geralt?”

The bard looked down at the Witcher and smiled lovingly. He was breathing softly, eyes were delicately closed, his lips slightly parted, his head resting on his shoulder. He was deep asleep.

“Oh, I have bored you to sleep. I’m sorry. Sleep well, dear Witcher,’ whispered Jaskier, before shifting a bit and drawing his body closer to Geralt. He sighed in deep content and fell asleep.


End file.
